


i can tread on the grass or the stars

by radianceofthefuture



Series: Joy [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Choir AU, M/M, auditions, the conservatory audition process is very stressful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 10:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14330184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radianceofthefuture/pseuds/radianceofthefuture
Summary: “What if I’m not any good?”The question is delivered in a small voice, and Grantaire feels sure that he must have misheard it, because that’s so far from a reasonable “what if” that it’s actually dizzying.High school choir AU wherein Enjolras’ faith is shaken and Grantaire has to talk him down.





	i can tread on the grass or the stars

**Author's Note:**

> This is slightly outside the timeline of the other stories in this series. It takes place a little later in the school year, after the concert that Enjolras is losing his mind about in the previous three and around the time he’d be losing his mind about conservatory auditions.

Grantaire is awakened by the phone ringing.

Squinting in confusion, he reaches out for it, fumbling blindly along the nightstand before finally grasping it. He raises it to his face to see who it is. Enjolras. He scrambles to answer.

“Enjolras? It’s five in the morning here, love, is everything okay?”

There’s a pause, and he can just barely hear Enjolras’ small, sharp inhale through the nose. He is quiet for so long that Grantaire begins to grow concerned.

“I forgot about the time difference,” Enjolras responds, finally. “It’s eight here, I guess I was just so wrapped up in this audition shit that it just completely left my mind.”

“It’s fine,” Grantaire assures him, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Apollo. Is everything okay? Is there a reason why you’re calling me right now instead of preparing to audition at the amazing school you’ve been going on and on about for literally longer than I’ve known you?”

“What if I’m not any good?”

The question is delivered in a small voice, and Grantaire feels sure that he must have misheard it, because that’s so far from a reasonable “what if” that it is actually dizzying.

“Excuse me?”

“I said,” Enjolras repeats, “what if I’m not any good?” and holy Christ, his voice is actually shaking. Grantaire half-wonders if there is fire raining from the sky outside, because dammit, he may not actually be Catholic, but he’s been in Catholic school for long enough to know that there are five horsemen of the apocalypse, and they are war, famine, pestilence, death, and Enjolras’ uncertainty.

“Enjolras, you can’t seriously be asking me this.”

“Well, that’s strange, because here I am, standing in my aunt’s guest bedroom in Montreal, and I’m dead serious. What if I’m not any good?”

“Enjolras -“

“I mean it, R. What if I’m horrible? What if I can’t sing, and I’ve just been feeding myself a constant lie for my entire adolescent life, and everyone I know has just been indulging me? Or else, what if I’m good, but just not good enough? I mean, yeah, I’m church choir good, I’m suburban Catholic school good, but what if I’m not good where it actually matters? What if I’m not opera good? What will I do then?”

“Enjolras,” Grantaire says, very gently. “I need you to tell me what you need from me right now.”

There’s a pause. “I need you to be honest with me.”

And that’s just it, isn’t it? Grantaire could probably have predicted that answer himself, now that he’s thinking about it. If Enjolras had wanted sympathy or reassurance, he would have called Jehan or Cosette; if he’d wanted tough love, he’d have talked to Éponine or Bahorel, and if he’d wanted to be reassured he was being irrational, he’d have asked Combeferre. One of the many wonderful things about having a group of friends as large and tightly-knit as theirs is there is always someone there to be supportive in whatever way necessary. But Enjolras had wanted nothing less than total and complete honesty, so he turned to the person he could trust would give it without hesitation.

He lays back, searching for the exact words he needs to let Enjolras know exactly what he thinks. How can he put words to something like this, a truth as fundamental as his need for air?

“Enjolras,” he begins, “you’re the best singer I’ve ever met. Bar none. You know how I feel about the world. It’s rotten to the core; it teems with ugliness. The human race is a plague. But you - your voice, your drive, your goodness - it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds, and you force me to wonder if maybe humanity isn’t so bad after all. It can’t be, if it can produce something so good. You’re going to get in, Apollo. They’d be stupid not to accept you. And if they don’t, fuck ‘em, because they don’t deserve you anyway.”

“I love you,” Enjolras replies. He almost sounds like he’s choking back tears. “I love you so much, R. Here you are, talking about my goodness, when you yourself are the most genuinely good person I’ve ever met in my life.” Now he’s definitely crying.

“I mean it,” Grantaire assures him. “I believe in you.”

“Thank you,” sniffs Enjolras. “I...I think I have to go now. I can’t show up to the audition without warming up first.”

“Okay, E. Call me later to tell me how it went, yeah?”

“Okay.”

Grantaire settles back down in his bed. He’s still there, five hours later, when Enjolras calls him back, ecstatic.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, the title comes from Joy, a choral work composed by Hans Bridger Heruth.  
> The school that Enjolras is auditioning for is McGill University in Montreal, which is known for having one of the best undergraduate opera programs in North America.  
> Please leave a comment or come find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/radiance-of-the-future)


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